


Spindleshanks and the Bear

by applejackcat



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 15:17:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5132372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applejackcat/pseuds/applejackcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lady Belle and her faithful steward Rumplestiltskin learn that bears are nature's aphrodisiacs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spindleshanks and the Bear

Judging by Gaston’s open-mouthed look of horror, he had not expected to encounter a bear while leading Lady Belle and her steward through the forest. What had begun as a merry hunt for the perfect picnic site had, in the moment it took the three of them to step from the trees into a clearing, become Gaston’s greatest nightmare: confronting an opponent who could easily best him.

Even crouched on all fours, the bear towered over Belle. Its massive paws could rend a stag in half, and its maw, filled with razor-sharp teeth, could snap Gaston’s broadsword in half with one mighty snap. If the bear chose to attack them, Belle realized, they were doomed.

“Gaston,” she gasped, her knees shaking as terror engulfed her. 

Without so much as a backward glance, the knight turned to his right and disappeared into the brush. Belle wondered if he expected her to follow him. She nearly swooned when she realized that Gaston left her because he believed the bear would attack and had wanted to buy himself a few precious moments.

The bear turned its dark-eyed gaze to Belle. Its ears flicked and it sniffed the air. Then, with an grace which she would remember until the day she died, it rose to stand on its hind legs.

Its hulking frame blocked the sun and cast Belle into shadows. For one awful moment, a fear so primal and overwhelming overtook Belle, and her mind went blank. A tight, agonized gasp from behind her drew her back to herself, and she remembered: she was not alone. 

“My Spindleshanks,” Belle whispered, and she looked behind her for a final glimpse of her precious steward’s face. 

Rumplestiltskin, whom she called Spindleshanks because the endearment made him blush and because the sight of his lean legs in his livery made her blush, stood behind her. The color had drained from his face, and he wore the most petrified countenance Belle had ever seen. His body quaked under the impossible weight of his fear. Belle despised Gaston, the boastful cretin, for his abandonment of them. But when she saw the depths of her Spindleshanks petrification, Belle wanted nothing more than to comfort him.

If the bear charged her, she would fight to the death so Rumplestiltskin could escape. She wished she could tell him how much she valued the friendship that had blossomed between them since he had taken control of her household. Belle valued his counsel and enjoyed his company more than any other person in Avonlea, perhaps the world. 

A deep, rumbling growl filled the clearing. Belle whirled to face the bear again. It had taken a step closer to her. She smelled its musky, pungent scent and could see its fur ripple as its muscles twitched. 

Behind her, Rumplestiltskin stepped on a twig. 

Don’t run, Belle prayed silently. Slip away, like Gaston. I hope I will see you again, but I doubt I will. 

And then, he stood beside her. Before Belle could fully process Rumplestiltskin's nearness, that he had not in fact run but come to face certain death by her side, he moved himself directly in front of her. 

“Lady Belle,” Rumplestiltskin murmured so calmly that Belle wondered if he had not spoken but rather imagined the words into her mind, “start walking backwards. Move slowly. Do not turn your back to the beast, no matter how much you might want to. No sudden movements. If the bear attacks, run. As quickly as possible. I will buy you as much time as I can.”

Rumplestiltskin’s hand went to his belt, where he kept a small dirk, a tiny blade more often used to open Belle’s letters than for its intended purpose. She realized that he meant to fight the bear if it threatened her. Something passionate and fervent blazed within her breast. If they survived, Belle realized, she had thought of something she wished to do even more than comforting her Spindleshanks. 

Belle took Rumplestiltskin’s free hand in hers and found the warmth of his palm reassuring. He squeezed her hand, and together, they began to back away from the bear. The shaggy beast regarded their retreat with the same stoic curiosity with which it had greeted their arrival. Increment by increment, moment by moment, it became less and less of a reality. Still, Belle barely drew breath until they turned an outcrop of trees and the bear disappeared from sight. 

“We must put distance between the bear and ourselves,” Rumplestiltskin told her. “But I believe we can turn around. If we hear it following us, remember our plan.”

The pair moved swiftly through the forest, and it comforted Belle that he still clutched her hand in his. Rumplestiltskin stumbled once and cursed, and after his misstep, he struggled to maintain their pace. When Belle tried to walk more slowly, he shook his head and urged her onwards. By the Rumplestiltskin deemed it safe for them to rest, his gait had become a hobble. 

“Damn,” he growled as he sat upon a stump. He massaged his right knee, and when Belle smoothed her skirts and sank down beside him, he leapt to his feet again. Try as he might, he could not hide his wince from her.

“Sit, my dearest Spindleshanks,” Belle cooed gently. Reluctantly, Rumplestiltskin returned to the stump.

“My lady,” he said, “are you alright?”

In response, Belle laid her head in his lap. She panted and trembled, but she no longer felt fear. If the bear burst into the glen, slavering and spoiling for a fight, she felt certain she could drive it off with her bear hands. Is this how knights felt after a battle, Belle wondered? Invincible and imbued with unspeakable might?

“Oh, my lady!” exclaimed Rumplestiltskin at Belle’s familiarity. His hands fluttered fretfully in front of him, as if her touch discomforted him. She knew it did not.

Belle had not heard of such intimacy even between couples joined in matrimony. But hadn’t her Spindleshanks, who would have given his life to save hers, proven that they meant more to one another than a husband and a wife? One graceful, cautious hand placed itself upon Belle’s head. After a moment’s hesitation, when she did not chastise him for his presumption, Rumplestiltskin caressed her gleaming curls. Belle could not help herself: she crooned as he stroked her hair.

“Belle,” Rumplestiltskin sighed reverently. “My Belle?”

“Your Belle,” she swore. 

They ignored the sun as it sank in the sky and refused to part from one another. Rumplestiltskin threaded his fingers through Belle’s tresses and rubbed small, firm circles across her scalp: a further intimacy. Only when the light began to fade did Rumplestiltskin return to his senses.

“My Belle, I do believe we are lost.”

Belle shifted her head so she could peer up at him. Rumplestiltskin looked worried but not entirely displeased to be lost with her. “Another gift from Gaston,” she observed.

Rumplestiltskin chuckled darkly. “I do wonder what he will tell your father.”

“Anything but the truth, I imagine.”

“Well, then, since he left me to guard you, I’m certain he has told the court that we are dead,” Rumplestiltskin muttered. 

“Then think of how wonderful it will be to lead me from the forest and tell my father and his men that you would have forfeited your life so that mine would be spared.” Belle sat up and cupped his face in her hand. With the sweetness of a puppy, Rumplestiltskin melted into her touch. “You are my hero, Rumplestiltskin. My handsome hero.”

If Belle thought calling him Spindleshanks caused him to flush, it was nothing compared to how he colored at her heartfelt compliment. “My Belle,” he groaned, his brogue thick with emotion. “You are the most -- no one in the world is as dear to me as you. To serve you is -- it is an unparalleled honor.”

“And is that how you see me, my Spindleshanks? As the woman you serve?” Belle brought her hands to his knees. She could not express, even to herself, what she hoped he would tell her. More obvious were the answers that would break her heart. Belle held Rumplestiltskin’s gaze and waited.

“No one who meets you can help but adore you,” he said at last. “You capture the heart of every man who sees you.”

“What of the man who sits before me?” Belle asked. “He saved my life today. Given the chance, I would gladly have done the same. I know why I would risk my life for him.” She paused and drew her courage to her. “I love him, dearly, and believe my affections might be returned.” 

To her surprise, Rumplestiltskin lurched to his feet. He stumbled away from her, and before Belle allowed heartbroken grief to engulf her, she noted the strain that moving put upon him. “My lady, please!” he begged, his return to formality almost worse than discovering the bear. “I beg you to stop.”

Tears blurred Belle’s vision. She suppressed a choking sob. “Rumplestiltskin, I do not understand.” She despised the childish, bleating quality of her whine. Truly, though, his reaction befuddled her. When she looked into his dear brown eyes, she saw blooming within them a passion to match her own. How had she erred so terribly, to believe he might love her?

“You have suffered a terrible fright, and you have confused gratefulness with love,” Rumplestiltskin cried. “You owe me nothing, my lady, and I could not survive if -- if for a moment I possessed my heart’s desire, only to lose it when you realized the truth of what I am.” 

Oh.

Understanding dawned upon Belle. She rose to her feet and moved to Rumplestiltskin. Wet tracks ran down his face, and when he tried to wipe his face and hide himself from her in the same movement, she caught his hand. “Please, don’t,” she murmured, bringing his knuckles to her lips. Rumplestiltskin gasped, and his wonder pleased Belle in a way that made her press her thighs together. “Dear Rumple,” she crooned, finding she favored this new pet name far more than Spindleshanks, “I have never felt less confused in my life. If the events of the afternoon have any bearing on my declaration, then it is only because of how close I came to losing you.”

Uncertainty and desire seemed to war within Rumplestiltskin, but he did not jerk away from her again. “I am lowly born, and I am ugly, and I am broken. These are crimes for which the world has little pity. You do me a kindness, my lady, but truly: to lose your affection would destroy me.”

Belle ached at the shame she heard in Rumplestiltskin’s voice. She longed to draw him close and stroke his hair, comforting him as he had done for her. But his dismissal of her love catalyzed her temper as well. 

“Do you truly think so little of me?” Belle demanded fiercely. “You, who know me better than any other person in the world?” Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth, and she covered it with her free hand. “No! Not another word against yourself! You don’t get to tell me how I feel, Rumple! I know my heart, and it belongs to you.”

“I cannot accept it, then,” Rumplestiltskin protested weakly.

“And why not?” Belle felt ready to stamp her foot out of frustration. “You have said as much: that you love me too. Why would you deny yourself this happiness?” 

“I told you! I’m old, and broken, and --”

“Stop it!” Belle begged him, near tears again. “Stop saying such cruel things about yourself!”

“Whether I speak it aloud or not, the truth remains the truth, my lady.” Rumplestiltskin stared at the ground, but he would not drop Belle’s hand.

“When I look at you,” Belle said, “I see a man of courage and honor, handsome and kind, a man who makes me feel safe.”

“Looks often deceive,” Rumplestiltskin replied, and when he would meet Belle’s gaze again, she misliked the resigned expression she wore. Extending his right leg, he bent over and tugged the cuff of his britches up until he exposed his knee. With a half-hearted flourish, Rumplestiltskin gestured to his calf and foot -- or, rather, the wooden prosthetic he wore in place of flesh and bone. “A cripple makes for a poor knight.” 

Belle could tell that the limb, carved from expensive wood and fashioned so skillfully that she never suspected its existence, had been crafted by a master of his trade. Even so, she doubted the prosthetic had been made to support a man as he ran from a bear. Belle knew Rumplestiltskin expected her to turn from him in horror or, perhaps worse, to gaze at him pityingly; his lack of faith in her stung. But when she saw the livid red marks lining the leather strips that fastened the prosthetic to Rumplestiltskin’s knee, Belle remembered how Rumplestiltskin stumbled during their hasty retreat. 

He would wear himself down to nothing to keep me safe, and yet he calls himself pathetic. Clearly, I have work to do. 

Belle fell to her knees and gestured for Rumplestiltskin to follow suit. She drew his right leg so that it lay across her lap, and it did not escape her attention that he inhaled sharply at her touch. Belle had little experience with men, almost the entirety of her said experience having been earned with Rumplestiltskin, but the atmosphere in the glen felt wildly different than it had just moments before. The air around them still crackled, but it did not bear the same bitter, churning quality as the moments directly before his revelation. Belle knew that if Gaston and the men of her father’s court stumbled upon Rumplestiltskin and her now, with her steward’s leg settled atop her own and her fingers resting lightly just below his knee, the discovery would cause an intense scandal. Not, Belle realized, for the generally innocent tableau they presented but for the depth of emotion that coursed between them, so richly felt as to have become tangible.

“Rumple, you’ve taken wonderful care of me today, as you always do,” Belle crooned, surprised at the huskiness in her voice. “Please. Let me return the favor, Spindleshanks.”

Rumplestiltskin sobbed and immediately jammed his forearm across his mouth to stifle the noise. Belle smiled at him and shook her head. Caught in a stupor of baffled humility, he lowered his arm and nodded. “As you wish, my Belle.”

Her heart soaring and racing frantically at the same time, Belle’s fingers went to the leather straps that held Rumplestiltskin’s wooden prosthetic to his leg. Mindful of the raw, painful-looking marks that lined the edges of the straps, Belle undid the buckles and eased the harness off of Rumplestiltskin’s knee. He tensed when she first glimpsed the smooth skin at the base of his knee, but his anxiety seemed to flee when she brushed her fingertips over the jagged scar at its base.

“I never knew, Rumple, and I thank you for showing me your leg,” Belle murmured. “It took courage, the sort that makes me love you.” She locked eyes with his and added, “Because this changes nothing. I love you, deeply, exactly because you’re you and not some boastful knight. Bravery and courage are so much more than physical strength and a body’s capabilities. Gaston has spent his entire life preparing to rescue a damsel in distress, and when it came time to act, he couldn’t run away quickly enough.”

Rumplestiltskin wept openly now. He gazed at her with open-mouthed wonder, but he chuckled at her assessment. “You are many things, my Belle, but a damsel in distress is not one of them.”

Belle beamed at him and, unconsciously, began to massage his knee. Rumplestiltskin’s eyes slid shut, and his head fell back. A low, throaty moan escaped his lips: a bewitching sound of the sort Belle had never heard a man make before, a sound she had every intention of addressing. 

After they concluded other conversations, that is. 

“I have made my feelings for you very clear, Rumple. You encourage me. You respect me. You do not tell me to hold my tongue or dismiss my ideas because I’m a woman. You see me as I am, and I love you, deeply, for that and for all that you are, too.” Belle’s fingers itched to inch higher on Rumplestiltskin’s leg, under the cloth of his britches, up the muscles of his thigh. She had considered such sensualities many times before although never as boldly as she did now, with the will to act upon her desires. 

First, though, she needed Rumplestiltskin to speak.

“You have made me wait a distressingly long time for your answer, Rumplestiltskin, and I have grown impatient. Answer me truthfully. I love you and am in love for you, in a way that’s as solid and real to me as you are. Do you love me?” 

Moments before, which seemed more like lifetimes to Belle, she had been unsure of what she wanted Rumplestiltskin to reply. Now she knew without a doubt, and her breath hitched as she awaited his answer.

“Gods, yes, I love you,” Rumplestiltskin groaned, reaching for Belle, relief washing over his face, his tears beginning to flow once more. “I will never understand why you would return my feelings, but thank the gods that you do. I love you, my Belle. I love you so much.”

Belle had read enough romances to know: the time had come for the heroine to kiss her hero. Sliding Rumplestiltskin’s leg to the ground, she leaned forward, sighed happily, and brought her lips to his. For a moment, Rumplestiltskin froze, and Belle worried he had forgotten how to breath. But then his arms, strong and warm, wrapped around her waist and drew her into his lap. He deepened the kiss, moaning against her lips until Belle’s mouth opened and their tongues touched tentatively for the first time.

Need blazed within Belle, quickly overtaking her cautiousness. 

She remembered the first time Rumplestiltskin’s lean body, the way his breeches hugged his bum when he bent over to fetch a book for her, sent hot, fervent desire coiling through her veins. Later that evening, as she had soaked in her bathtub, her skin flushed from far more than the heat of the water, she drew a trembling hand down her torso to cup herself between her legs. Just as the discovery of the sweet little nub hidden beneath her curls had sent Belle down a pace of furious self-exploration, this first taste of Rumplestiltskin’s mouth made her ache for more.

“I love you, Belle,” Rumplestiltskin growled, breaking their kiss long enough to reassure her of his devotion. “I never thought you could possibly want me in return. Oh, Belle! You’re driving me made!” 

When he brought his mouth to hers once more, Belle nipped at his bottom lip, and Rumplestiltskin yelped. The way his arms tightened around her waist assured her: his cry had been one of a pleased man, a man who wants another taste of what he’d just been given. Belle wrapped her arms around Rumplestiltskin’s neck and let her fingers tangle in his brown shaggy hair. She swallowed the squeak he made when she dragged her nails against his scalp.

Since Belle’s appreciation of Rumplestiltskin’s form began, she had spent an increasing amount of time with her romances, novels which she collected from the other ladies of her father’s court and which would have sent Lord Maurice into an apoplectic fit had he found one in his daughter’s collection. Her romances had given her a hearty understanding of what happened when a man and the woman he loved kissed for an extended period of time. When she felt Rumplestiltskin’s hard penis straining against hers pert little bum, she wiggled against him, drawing forth a strangled cry from the man in question.

“Belle,” Rumplestiltskin panted after breaking their kiss for a second time. “My darling Belle. I’m sorry, so sorry, for -- for my lewdness.”

“That’s funny, Rumple,” Belle laughed, sliding her face into the crook of his neck, wiggling against him again, “for I refuse to apologize for mine.”

Rumplestiltskin’s eyelids fluttered closed again. “If I was any sort of steward, I would reattach my leg, help you to your feet, and do my damnedest to escort you out of the woods. The sun’s almost set, Belle, and we have no idea where we are.” Silence stretched between them, and Belle could still feel Rumplestiltskin’s erection pressing against her. “But I escaped certain death today, and I have the woman I love in my arms, and she wants me.”

“More than she has ever wanted anything in her life,” Belle swore. “Please, Rumple. We’ll find our way out of the woods. But first, please, make love to me.” 

“You deserve the softest bed, hundreds of candles, so much more than we have here,” Rumplestiltskin said, but Belle heard little resolve in his voice. She grinned against his neck: she would win this battle.

“If I have taught you nothing else today, Spindleshanks, it is that I care very little about appearances.” Belle giggled. “Except yours, when you’re bared before me.”

Rumplestiltskin’s eyebrows shot up at her boldness. “I love you, and I want so badly to please you.” He looked down at his right leg, frowning. “It has been some time since I’ve lain with a woman, and I have never had a particular skill for this. If I do something wrong, you will tell me, won’t you Belle?”

“I have every confidence there won’t be a need for that,” Belle replied. “Now, kiss me again, Rumple.”

As he obeyed Belle’s command, Rumplestiltskin shifted their bodies so they could sink into the forest’s cool, mossy floor while remaining entwined. He drew Belle closer to him, splaying a leg over her side, sharing his body’s warmth with her. His hands caressed her back, sending shivers down Belle’s spine, and his stiff penis throbbed against her belly.

“Undress me, Rumple,” she begged, breaking their kiss. 

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “As my lady wishes.”

The intricacies of the laces of Belle’s dress proved too difficult for Rumplestiltskin to undo blindly. Belle cried out mournfully when he rolled her away from him, her kiss-swollen lips desperate for more. The sound died in her throat when Rumplestiltskin pushed her hair away from her shoulders, exposing the back of her neck to him. He planted a delicate kiss at the base of her neck, then another just below it, and another, and another. Belle nearly leapt out of her skin when his tongue dragged across her skin, teasing her and planting the seeds of a thousand unrealized fantasies.

“Patience, my Belle, patience. We have all the time in the world.” 

Belle’s reactions to Rumplestiltskin were immediate, primal -- and utterly undeniable. Each sharp intake of breath, each shudder of delight, gave him confidence as he undid the bindings of her dress. Rumplestiltskin continued to cover Belle’s skin with kisses, and the soft, intimate sound his lips made each time they left her skin filled the glen. When he finished unlacing the stays that held her dress together, Rumplestiltskin bit at the soft flesh of Belle’s shoulder, and his forwardness caused the sweet hum between her legs to turn relentless pounding.

“You’re so responsive, so eager,” Rumplestiltskin growled, moving on to Belle’s corset. “Gods, I imagined touching you a million times, but I never dreamed you would react so beautifully.” 

With the corset undone, all that remained was Belle’s chemise. Rumplestiltskin hesitated only a moment before slipping his hands beneath the fabric of her dress and running them up her belly. Belle’s excitement overwhelmed her, and wherever she felt his touch, she quivered in anticipation. Rumplestiltskin tried to soothe the trembling muscles of her stomach by running the tips of his fingers in small circles; but when Belle cried out and ground herself backwards, into his throbbing erection, he knew to take a different approach.

Belle yowled when Rumplestiltskin cupped her breasts and ran his thumbs over her nipples. His light touch caused the dusky-brown tips to pucker, and he continued to stroke them with increasing pressure. 

“Sweet Belle, darling Belle,” Rumplestiltskin crooned softly. “That’s it, my lady. Lose yourself in this. Let me please you.”

He kissed the shell of her ear, the curve of her neck, whatever his lips could reach. When Belle thought she could draw no greater pleasure from his touch, Rumplestiltskin took her nipples between his fingers and plucked at them. She wailed in protest when one hand left her breast, although his other still toiled ceaselessly, but her tune changed when she felt it slide down her flank.

“Wait!” Belle cried, and Rumplestiltskin flew backwards. “No, no, I don’t want you to stop!” she added when she turned and saw the look of horror he wore. “I just thought -- before I lose the ability to think -- that we might make ourselves more comfortable.” 

Belle stood, letting her dress pool around her ankles as it slid from her body. Dusk had stolen over the glen while they kissed and Rumplestiltskin explored her breasts; Belle wanted to stand naked before him before the last rays of sun disappeared and they made love by the light of the stars. Arousal stole her grace and forced her to perform an awkward, hopping dance as she removed her undergarments, but Rumplestiltskin remained transfixed. Belle knew the thin fabric of her chemise did little to hide her dark nipples or the thsatch of curls between her legs. Yet she found one more thrill in the way the cloth slid over her skin after she shrugged out of it.

“Oh, Belle, thank you.” Rumplestiltskin’s eyes roamed Belle’s naked body, bewitched by every bit of her they beheld. “Now, come here and let me warm you.”

They spread the full skirts of Belle’s dress over the softest patch of moss in the glen, and Belle sank into Rumplestiltskin’s arms once more. She longed for his hands to cup and tease her breasts once more and rubbed her nipples against his chest to entice him. Her love had other plans, though, and he moved slowly so Belle could watch his motions and anticipate them. She knew from the teasing way he kissed his way down the column of her neck, and then from one pale shoulder to the other, that he meant to use his mouth on her.

Nothing prepared Belle for the surge of pleasure she felt when Rumplestiltskin’s lips closed around one puckered nipple, though. He tongue swirled around the stiff little peak, and Belle’s hands flew to his head to hold him in place.

“So good, Rumple, so good!” Belle sobbed as he dragged his teeth across her sensitive flesh, allowing her nipple to pop from his mouth so he could lavish his attention on the other. “Oh, gods, please!”

To Belle’s delight, she became aware of Rumplestiltskin’s fingers tracing nonsensical patterns across her ribs. His hand inched downwards at a torturous pace, and Belle found it difficult to draw breath as she anticipated his touch upon her aching core. The closer Rumplestiltskin drew to her curls, the more fiercely Belle trembled, her excitement intensifying the feeling of his tongue lashing her nipple. He chuckled against her breast at how quickly her legs flew apart when he reached her hipbone.

“I love you Belle, and I want to make you feel good,” Rumplestiltskin whispered against her skin.

“Then don’t stop, Rumple. I’m getting close! So close.”

Belle did not know how to put into words the explosive peak her pleasure would soon reach. With thoughts of Rumplestiltskin dancing through her mind, she brought herself to this physical catharsis on a semi-regular basis. Regrettably, however, the flowery language of her romances left her without a befitting moniker for the experience. Rumplestiltskin knew what she meant, though, and he pressed the base of his palm over the hood of Belle’s clitoris. He exerted a gentle pressure and rubbed his wrist in small, tight circles.

“Oh, gods! Like that, Rumple, just like that!” Belle cried, grinding herself against him, pushing him to touch her more firmly.

“You’re so wet, my Belle. I can’t believe how bloody wet you are. Gods have mercy!” His throat worked fitfully, and his eyes blazed, and he must have been holding back, because he spread her lips and drew the soft pad of a finger up the length of her bundle of nerves. 

Belle had never touched herself so directly, and no wonder, for the pleasure he brought caused bright spots of light to dance before her eyes. Nothing had ever felt so amazing, and now Belle bucked against his hand in earnest, her voice a continuous, jubilant wail. Rumplestiltskin’s tongue and fingers and the vibrations of his hums worked in tandem, and Belle’s body drew as tight as a drum until he slid a finger into her. Then she tumbled over the brink of her pleasure and clenched, over and over again, as she rode out a breathtaking climax.

Rumplestiltskin stroked her and suckled her until the intensity of his touch became too much. Then he returned to running his hands up and down Belle’s back, crooning loving nonsense into her ear as her body twitched and leapt in his arms, her body returning to its equilibrium. 

“I could live for three thousand years and never experience anything as beautiful as you when you come,” Rumplestiltskin whispered to Belle, kissing her temple lovingly. “Oh, Belle, that was incredible.”

When the night air began to chill Belle’s skin, she shifted in Rumplestiltskin’s arms. “You told me you imagined touching me a thousand times,” she recalled.

Rumplestiltskin groaned. “Yes. I did. Many, many times.”

“And when you dreamed of how I’d react, did you touch yourself as well?”

He took his time answering her. Finally, “Aye. I did.” 

“Would you show me how? I want to learn to please you, Rumple.”

Belle drew back from Rumplestiltskin to discern his reaction to her request. His eyes had jammed shut, and he wore an expression of tortured ecstasy. “Gods, Belle, I could come right now, without laying a finger upon myself.”

The realization of her affect on Rumplestiltskin made Belle light-headed. “Please, Rumple,” she pleaded. “Let me make you feel good. Take off your clothes, and teach me.”

She helped him undress, both of their fingers made clumsy by their arousal. He unbuttoned his jacket while she undid the buttons on his starched white shirt. Rumplestiltskin wore much less clothing than Belle, so they reached his undergarments much more quickly. Belle marveled at the smooth, defined muscles of his bare arms and chest. While Rumplestiltskin slid out of her drawers, she tried her luck with his nipples and caused him to curse.

“Fuck, Belle, that’s lovely.”

Then Belle rolled backwards to examine him more fully. The heroines of her romances always thought of what hung between a man’s legs as a cock, and now Belle understood why. Rumplestiltskin’s thick cock rose out of a thatch of hair, coarser than her own curls. Her eyes had adjusted to the dark, she admired how it curved upwards so it almost lay flat against his belly. She noted the sack underneath Rumplestiltskin’s cock, the heavy-looking balls, and swore to herself that she would devote hours in the future to their exploration. His nakedness left her breathless with desire and desperate to learn how to please him.

“Show me, Rumple. Please?”

Rumplestiltskin nodded and took her hand, guiding her to his shaft, encouraging her to wrap her fingers around him. Belle squeezed him and stroked her hand downwards, causing his cock to twitch against her palm.

“Oh, bloody hell, Belle. You don’t need me to teach you anything, do you?” Rumplestiltskin rumbled in her ear. “Go on, my lady. Do to me what you will.”

Belle pumped her fist upwards, pausing at the head of Rumplestiltskin’s erection. She drew her thump across the very tip of him and used the droplets of moisture that leaked from his slit to ease her way. Rumplestiltskin buried his face in her curling locks and let loose a continuous, overwrought whine, deep and potently masculine. When Belle dipped her other hand lower to cup his balls, Rumplestiltskin squealed and pulled away from her. He rolled onto his back, one arm thrown over his eyes and brow, and panted heatedly.

“Give me a moment, my Belle, or this will be over all too soon.”

His plea took the sting out of him jerking away from her, and Belle rolled over to him so she could rest her head upon his chest. Rumplestiltskin coiled a lock of her hair around his finger and struggled to regain his breath. Belle listened to the frantic beating of his heart. The night air chilled her, and when a shiver ran through her body, Rumplestiltskin stirred. 

“When we came around the corner and saw the bear,” he told her, “all that mattered to me, all I could see, was how much closer you were to it than I was. When Gaston left and the bear reared back on your hind legs -- well, however familiar I thought I was with terror, I realized I knew nothing. I ceased to hear or smell or feel anything but the cutting fear that --” Rumplestiltskin choked back a sob. His body shook now, and Belle did not have to look upwards to know he that he wept. 

“All I wanted was for you to escape the bear,” Belle said. “To know that you were safe and to see your face one last time.”

“I couldn’t breathe until I got between you and the bear. If something had happened to you, Belle...” Again, Rumplestiltskin struggled to finish such a terrible thought. 

“I’m tired of talking about the bear,” Belle declared. “With its thick furry pelt, it doesn’t need any help to keep warm. We, on the other hand, must make do with what resources we’re given. Do you have any ideas, Rumplestiltskin, about how to warm me up?”

“That I do, my Belle,” he replied. “But first, we need to prepare the way.” 

Rumplestiltskin cupped Belle between her legs and groaned when he felt her heat and wetness. He stroked the sensitive skin around her entrance while his thumb teased her clitoris. Belle’s excitement and pleasure started to build into another fierce crescendo, and when Rumplestiltskin slid a finger inside her, she welcomed the unfamiliar pressure. Slowly, hyper-aware of her every twitch and coo, Rumplestiltskin pumped in and out of Belle. His mouth returned to her nipple, and the intensity of so many different methods of pleasuring her stole Belle’s breath. The pair moved against each other in tandem, Belle’s hands twining in Rumplestiltskin’s hair, her leg brushing against his cock. When he slid another finger inside of her, Belle cried out, certain she would finish again if he kept up his pace.

This time, Belle wanted to clench around Rumplestiltskin’s cock, not his fingers. 

“Rumple, I’m ready,” she gasped. “I love you, and I want you to make love to me.”

With a groan, Rumple dragged his mouth from her breast. “How can a man deny such a lovely request?” he wondered, rolling on top of Belle and settling his weight onto his forearms. He took his cock in his hand, and Belle spread her legs wider to accept him. “My Belle, this will hurt. We’re going to go as slowly as you want to, and we can stop anytime you want. This is your show, love, and I am, as ever, your willing servant.”

Rumplestiltskin kissed her eyelids, the tip of her nose, the corners of her mouth. He whispered to her how happy she made him, a heretofore lonely old man, but what truly made Belle’s heart sing was the small cry he gave as he began to ease his cock inside of her. Tight, he gasped, he had known she would be tight but gods did she know how good she felt? So good, so good, delicious and amazing and blazing hot and gods, he would not last a minute, he loved her so much, oh Belle, oh Belle, I love you. 

Belle bit her lip, welcoming this new intrusion even as her body struggled to accommodate Rumplestiltskin. She felt discomfort, not pain, and even though it stung a little, she loved the way he felt inside of her and marveled that they were now one.

“Don’t stop,” she commanded, and soon Rumplestiltskin had sheathed himself inside of her, his hips flush against hers.

“Let me know when, my Belle,” he pleaded. 

“Now,” Belle said before drawing his face to hers and kissing him. When Rumplestiltskin entered her the second time, the head of his cock brushed against some hidden spot within Belle that set her blood aflame. She gripped his shoulders tightly and wrapped her legs around his back and growled, “More!”

Rumplestiltskin worked his hand between their bodies and stroked her swollen clit as he thrust in and out of her. Belle’s arousal and excitement grew as their cries of pleasure mingled and Rumplestiltskin became more and more overwhelmed by their love making. They rocked together, kissing and gasping and licking and biting and losing themselves within one another. Belle’s hips rolled to meet Rumplestiltskin’s, sending jolts of pleasure singing through her body. She lifted one leg higher, and he let out a startled ecstatic exclamation and how unexpectedly she had tightened around him. Belle began to chant Rumplestiltskin’s name, and his voice joined hers, shouting her praises into the crisp night air.

“So close, my Belle, so close,” he crooned. “Come for me. Please, please, please!”

Rumplestiltskin took her clit between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing and tugging the sweet nub at the same time. Pleasure, molten and all-consuming, broke over Belle without warning. She gripped Rumplestiltskin’s to her and swore as her finish drove the breath from her lungs and reduced the world to her, and him, and her ecstasy. Rumplestiltskin’s thrusts became more powerful, and he grunted in her ear, and sudden heat flooded her as he came as well.

As soon as his mind had pieced itself back together and he could process more than the exquisiteness of being buried inside Belle, Rumplestiltskin drew her skirts around them. He rolled them so that the fabric covered most of Belle and little of him. If she had any strength left in her, Belle would have fought him on the issue, but she found she could do little more than snuggle up to her lover. 

“That was incredible,” Belle told Rumplestiltskin. “I never imagined -- nothing could have prepared me for it.”

Rumplestiltskin hummed happily. “I have never come so hard, Belle. I didn’t think my body was capable of that sort of pleasure.”

Belle’s stomach rumbled, although she cared little enough about food at the moment. 

“If there is a search party in the forest, they’ll have no trouble finding us now,” Rumplestiltskin observed. “I doubt your father’s benevolence towards the man who saved his daughter extends to taking her virginity.”

“The hunger isn’t too bad,” Belle said. “Until I figure out how we’ll be able to manage this within the castle walls, I’m not so eager to find our way home.”

Rumplestiltskin snorted. “It will require some effort on your part, to keep quiet, but I have no doubt that someone as clever as you will think of a hundred places we might carry on before sunrise.” He paused, and Belle felt him tense. “Although, we will need to take precautions in the future, provided I haven’t already gotten you with child.”

Belle recalled the liquid heat that had accompanied Rumplestiltskin’s climax. The idea of carrying his child brought her nothing but joy. If not now, she decided, then someday. When she told him as much, she felt him relax, and he agreed. 

“I should tell you, then, that I want nothing more than to marry you,” Rumplestiltskin said. “Though I doubt your father will warm to the idea.”

“Luckily for you, Father doesn’t decide my fate. I do. And I choose you as my husband.” Belle shifted so she could more easily kiss Rumplestiltskin, but a snapping branch drew her up short. Something very large was moving through the forest towards them: it rustled the brush and made giant, thudding footsteps. If they had not been so enamored of each other, they would have heard its approach sooner.

Belle whimpered. The fear had returned, as potent and overpowering as the pleasure she had experienced moments before. Rumplestiltskin threw himself in front of her, his hands scrabbling in the dark for his dagger. “Stay behind me, Belle,” he barked. “I can breathe and think so long as you are safe.”

And then the bear burst through the trees, as massive and hulking as it had been in Belle’s memories. It paused when it saw Rumplestiltskin and Belle, but only for the briefest of moments. It snuffled once and then continued to stalk towards them, a gargantuan black shape in the night.

“Run, Belle!” Rumplestiltskin screamed. “You must run, now! I can’t hold it off for long.”

But Belle would not have moved from her crouch on the forest floor for all the gold in Avonlea. If the bear killed Rumplestiltskin, then it had better make short work of her too, because if she survived and her lover did not, she would make it her life’s work to destroy to bear.

“I love you, Rumplestiltskin,” Belle cried, and Rumplestiltskin cursed, and the bear was upon them, opening its huge stinking mouth to devour them -- and what happened next deviated from her expectations so drastically that for a moment Belle thought she had broken with reality. 

Instead of biting Rumplestiltskin, the bear extended its giant pink tongue and licked him from his chin to his nose. The bear snuffled again, let out a satisfied bear noise, and settled back on its haunches. It continued its cleaning of Rumplestiltskin’s face, and when the bear deemed that task completed, it butted his shoulder playfully with its brutish head.

“Roor?” asked the bear in a pleasant sort of tone. “Rawr?”

The utter madness of their predicament caused Belle to let loose a bark of laughter. “Rumple, you’ve found a new pet!”

“Some animals enjoy playing with their food,” Rumplestiltskin commented. “Maybe this is a sadistic bear, and it wants us to think we’re safe.” 

When the bear turned its attention to Belle, she scooted forward slowly, taking great care not to move in a way that would frighten the creature. The bear watched her curiously, and when she reached a shaking, tremulous hand to scratch it behind its ear, it let out a contented sigh.

“Beauty tames the beast,” said Rumplestiltskin dryly. “It’s far more taken with you than with me, Belle. Although that proves what excellent taste it has.”

The bear rolled onto its back and displayed its belly to Belle. She buried her fingers in its thick, shaggy fur and petted it as it wriggled with glee. Its gigantic paws, almost the same width as Belle’s shoulders, waved merrily in the air as it grunted and growled. When Belle stopped, the bear yawned and rolled over. It snuffled good night to Rumplestiltskin and pleasant dreams to Belle and then, with surprising ease, gave itself over to slumber. When the couple pressed themselves against its warm side, it grunted but did not stir.

“Has something like this ever happened in one of your romances?” Rumplestiltskin asked as they curled up beside the bear.

Belle flushed. “You know about my romances?”

“I would have to be incredibly self-involved not to know about your romances. And now who’s avoiding questions, my lady?”

Still embarrassed over her transparent love of tawdry romance novels, Belle thought for a moment. “In Skin Deep the heroine, Jane, and her lover, Espen, must spend a night in the lair of a mercurial dragon. But he threatens to eat them and has scales instead of fur and would not let them near him lest Jane stab him with her broadsword. So, no, ours is a unique situation.”

Rumplestiltskin considered her answer. “I prefer the bear,” he admitted.

Dawn broke early the next morning, although no one in Lord Maurice’s castle had slept more than a few minutes. Their beloved lady, their lordship’s daughter, had been killed by a bear the day before. Only a few souls mourned her steward as well. In the Great Hall, the other knights of Avonlea did their best to comfort Gaston and keep him in a drunken stupor.

“I fought as valiantly as I could!” he repeated again and again. “Damn the beast that flew our Belle! Damn it to the pits of hell.”

A squire burst into the Great Hall, his face ruddy with excitement. “Lady Belle and her steward survived the bear attack! They tamed the bear! They ride it towards the castle as we speak.”

The knights exploded into cheers, and none of them noticed the pasty shade of gray Gaston had turned. He alone remained in the castle as hordes of rejoicing people spilled outside to greet Spindleshanks, his lady, and their bear.


End file.
